Lilim Division: Tyrannis
by SirVaden
Summary: Six months after their first mission, Gamma team appears tighter than ever. But when another team goes missing they find themselves facing prophecy, history and enemies they never expected to have. Book 2 of "Lilim Division"
1. Chapter 1

_"Lilim Division: Tyrannis" is a direct sequel to "Lilim Division," located here on FF__. While it's not necessary to read Book 1 first, it may be beneficial._

_Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

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The myriad of stars appearing through the thick wafts of clouds reflect off the steady ripples of the Hudson. The river's subtle stink, pushed close to its surface by a day of rain, just reaches Bella's upturned gash of a nose as she circles above a series of squat warehouses on the river's western bank. Her eyes stay trained on the ground, ignoring the anxious bristles along her neck as she flies a few hundred feet above the pier. Across the water, the bright bustle of Manhattan towers over her flight path. Millions of eyes remain a smart gaze away from seeing the winged monstrosity rotating over New Jersey.

As strands of hair whip out of her bun to slap against her back, she shudders. The damp air chills her skin just beyond comfortable as the wind cuts through her uniform. The tips of her clawed fingers are numb. She wants to unstrap the sniper rifle from her chest and raise the scope to her eye. Doing so would give herself a better view into the narrow gaps between the evenly spaced buildings jutting into the water, but the hard metal weapon stays tight against her. Near pitch-black shadows fall between the structures, forcing her to scan the area in hopeful patience she can spot the movement of the creature alluding them.

"Bella." Edward's voice cracks across the radio embedded in her skin and into her ear. "Let us know if you can't see it."

A brief growl rumbles from the base of her neck. Despite her comfortability with her team leader, speaking while in her mandarugo form makes her self-conscious. Annoyed with the delay and her voice, she presses the tip of her finger behind her ear as she responds with a rasp. "I'll find it."

A charge of frustration runs down her spine as she beats her massive wings. The alternative would be quicker, it's just a risk she'd rather not take. Besides, their target can fly as well. Staying airborne gives her an advantage if it flees upward. Curling her lips into a defeated snarl, they press tight against her fangs. _Damn it, _she thinks. Keeping her focus on the ground and shakes her head. As she speaks through the radio, her prehensile tongue warps her words. "Send Jacob."

"You'll cover top?" Edward asks.

"Yeah." Annoyed at herself but appreciative of Captain Masen's patience with her futile reconnaissance, she takes a massive breath. The crisp, disgusting air off the river coats her throat. She holds it in her lungs, allowing her cheeks to puff slightly below the deformed ridges of her face. The taste of watery rot wakes her, focuses her, and as an ache appears across her breasts she releases the air back into the wind.

The team is more efficient now. Six months of missions with Edward as the head of Gamma team have allowed her, all of them, to be comfortable with their human leader's logic and passion. There is no need for explanation. There's only trust. She knows Jacob is undressing now, likely transforming into a wolf. She knows Edward and Emmett will remain at the end of the pier to keep their target from escaping by land. She stays vigilant above them all. Previous commanders would micromanage the team on every mission, until would burn themselves out or die. Despite the danger, Captain Edward Masen somehow made missions pleasant.

The familiar crack of the radio followed by Edward's voice.

"Jacob's en route."

Tilting a wing skyward, Bella turns sharply back to the land. A hazy halo of yellow illuminating the ugly patchwork of water-logged wood of the pier briefly shows the dark, lupine form of Sergeant Jacob Black sprinting towards the warehouses. She repeats the motion, following through the air as her teammate tracks their target.

Across the steady ripples of the water, the island of Manhattan towers over her, populated by a billion people she, and her team anonymously defend. Perfectly rectangular stars crowd the horizon in their grid, the dull rumble of ignorance carrying across the river and reaching her deformed ears. When she lost her humanity seventy years ago, she never could have imagined the world she would live to see. The changes, the information and paranoia. Lilim's mission is more important than ever now. Keeping their secret, the secret of all cryptids is vital to her survival. She presses the hard tip of her tongue against her fangs and frowns, refocusing on the search below. It's hard to fight for a world you don't know.

"Jacob," Edward says through the radio, the voice appearing in her head like a conscious, "Track and corner. Don't attack."

The directive calms Bella down a bit. Jacob is still an impulsive kid, despite his recent promotion. But his passion is infectious and though he can't respond over the radio, she imagines he's accepting the order with respectful annoyance.

She loses his shape in the seams of shadows between the warehouses, so lets the steady hum of wind surround her as she listens for a howl.

The silence continues and she finds herself anticipating a snarky jibe from Emmett to hit the net. For decades, Master Sergeant McCarty would remain completely mute on missions though in recent months he's seemed more irritable and rude. In the past, Bella recalls Emmett challenging team leaders the more proficient they became. It's different now, more threatening, though Edward proves, mission by mission, that his ability to lead the team is innate and rivals the best in Lilim Division's history.

Like an approaching siren, a low sustained howl reverberates off the metal structures on the pier and climbs skyward. Instinctively, Bella rolls her shoulders and forces her wings into a sharp V-shape as she dives toward the noise. Drawing near, the crash and clatter of panicked commotion combines with the sound of Edward in the radio.

"Don't eliminate. I need to talk to him."

The talons on her elongated feed dent and scratch the metal roof of the warehouse as she lands. The ruckus below her seems to shake the entire structure, quaking the whole of the pier. Jacob's howl remains steady over the noise. She loosens her rifle off her chest as she runs to the edge of the building and jumps off, extending her wings to slow her twenty foot descent. The light disappears, forcing her to activate the flashlight below the muzzle of her weapon as she touches down. The ring of light bounces across the uneven boards and towering shelves of crates as she sprints into the building towards her calling teammate.

An open space in the back corner reveals the black fur of Jacob, his eyes intent on the cacophony of noise in the dark corner. Crates and shelves and machine parts litter the floor, knocked down in a failure to escape. Somehow, the frantic grunts and squeaks and slams of an airborne creature slamming against the roof like a month against a lightbulb can be heard above the wolf's deafening howl. Stopping a few paces behind her teammate, Bella stops and raises her weapon to the sound.

A mass of motion makes details difficult to discern in the white circle of Bella's flashlight. Wings turning and flapping and flailing allow only brief glimpses of the skeletal creatures form. A flash of its eyes reveal square pupils against an orange background. Stringy hair that runs to its chest, veiling its pale flesh. An elongated snout and small mouth like a horse. Hindquarters that bend backwards. Shreds of filthy, stained cloth a makeshift tunic. It's a creature Bella's has never seen, but always heard of. The Jersey Devil.

Bella deliberately shifts the aim of her weapon and its light, causing the shadows of the creature and the surrounding wreckage to dance and flicker with its rapid movement. Fatigue starts to take its hold as the Devil slows. A guttural wheeze, haggard and sad, leaks from its mouth. The noise causes Bella's stomach to tighten in guilt.

"Just shoot the damn thing." Emmett's voice comes from behind her like a bad dream.

"Damn it, Emmett," Edward immediately shouts back. "No one shoot." Two more circles of light converge with Bella's, fully illuminating the creature.

Jacob ceases his howl. In the void the Devil's harsh breath becomes more distinct as it stops its frantic flight. It uses a wing like a wall, crouching behind it with just a bit of its snout poking out from the edge as it perches atop an overturned boat motor. It shivers. Thin blue veins visible below its whitened flesh.

A threatening growl rolls out of Jacob's chest.

"Jacob," Bella says, the rasp in her voice harder than normal.

The team does nothing as the heavy breathing of the creature slows. A dull whine pierces the calming dullness as its cloven foot loses its grip. Staggering like a confused drunk, the Devil struggles to rebalance itself before simply squatting on the mechanical, make-shift stool. Its mouth gapes as it protrudes from behind its winged shroud, revealing a row of dulled fangs spotted with black rot.

The image strikes Bella, stinging her eyes and tightening her chest. She wants to lower her weapon. Walk away. She does neither.

"It's okay," Edward finally says. His voice is low, comforting, rolling out of the dark behind Bella like daybreak. "We don't want to hurt you."

Emmett exhales a heavy breath.

"We want to help," Edward continues. "Do you speak?"

From behind the raised wing, the snout nods.

"Will you speak to us?"

No response.

"What's your name?"

Nothing.

"We just want to help." The light from Edward's weapon leaves its focus on the creature and moves to the ceiling. "I'm setting my weapon down. My team won't hurt you. They're just going to keep their lights on so we can see you. Is that okay?"

Bella senses Edward stepping beside her in the dark as the creature nods. He places a gentle hand on her shoulder as he silently moves past. He stops even with the muzzle of her rifle, the peripheral vestiges of her light dimly lighting his face.

"Can you see me?" Edward asks. "Can you lower your wing?"

After hesitating, the pale, veiny wing shifts back revealing the head of the creature. Its skin is pale, near translucent, and clings tight to his bone, making his face look like an equine skull. The thin, knotted strands of hair are black and white and brown as they stick to his flesh. An elongate ear on the side of his sloped head points back sharply, mimicking the horn of a gazelle.

"Why?" The creature's voice is a high-pitched growl that bristles the hair on Bella's nape, as if a child's throat had been scrapped raw by sandpaper. "Why? Here?"

"We're with Lilim Division," Edward says, his words halting in his throat as though he didn't escape the Devil's voice to be so unnerving. "You've heard of Lilim Division?"

"Yes." The creature nods. Bella's pulse accelerates.

"You know how close you are to the city?" Edward asks. "You know how dangerous that is?"

"All danger."

The creature's words hang in the air like a fog and cease Bella's breath. The Devil was rarely seen for decades, sticking to the mountains and woods of the northeast. When Alice reported the creature was nearing Manhattan, Bella initially didn't believe it, thinking it was a different creature. But after chasing the Devil for four hours under the watchful eyes of the city's skyscrapers, it became obvious that something was seriously wrong.

"What do you mean?" Edward asks.

"All danger," it repeats. "No safe."

"Why are you heading to the city, then?"

"Escape." The Devil spits out the words, as if terrified to speak them. "Escape... collect."

"Collect?" Edward glances back towards Bella, the edge of her light illuminating the concern on his face. "Collecting what? Cryptids?"

"Yes. No." The creature's voice accelerates. "Yes."

"The thing's lost its mind," Emmett says from the black behind Bella.

"Shut it," Edward shoots back, his voice furious but steady to avoid startling the pale monster before them. He takes a breath. "Are you collecting something?"

The creature shakes its head, 'No' with a series of small jerks.

"Who is collecting?"

"The fuck is that?" From the shadows, the expletive explodes out of the unknown source. It rips the team's attention away from the Devil as they turn, Bella and Emmett's light crossing across the rows of crates before stopping on the bedraggled figure standing in the aisle. His skin is filthy. His beard unkempt. Wearing a faded green and black camo jacket, the vagrant jerks back and blinks violently at the lights hitting his eyes.

A moment passes before the explosion of a gunshot pierces the air. In the brief flash of the gunfire, Bella sees the crimson crown blasting out of the man's head as Emmett's bullet speeds through his skull.

"Emmett!" Edward screams.

Immediately, a deafening wail surrounds them as the Devil spreads its wings and stands. Wrinkles cover his body as its muscles tighten. It lowers its head.

Two more rapid gunshots zip past Bella, smacking the creature in the chest. Bright splashes of red form on its chest and neck as the cry stops. It tumbles from its perch, its neck contorting with a sick crack as it hits the wooden floor.

Instinctively, Bella whips her gun around towards Emmett. As she finishes her turn, they both drop their rifles. Flying around her, Edward rushes the Master Sergeant. The exosuit whirrs loudly as the Captain cocks his arm back and slams a right hook across Emmett's chin.

"Fuck Emmett," Edward screams. "What did you do?"

Emmett holds up a finger as he resets his jaw. As the light from their weapons dully reflect off the floor, Bella can see Edward shaking with rage.

"Kept our cover," Emmett says, obviously. He stretches his mouth open wide, more concerned with his bone structure than the situation.

"He was human!"

"That's why I only used one bullet."

"God damn it!" Edward screams, louder. "Fuck. Why'd you shoot our target?"

Bella goes numb. The words of her teammates fade to static. She looks back at the corpse of the Devil, its orange eyes vacant as it stares unnaturally at the warehouse roof. She walks past the two men, nose to nose, and heads outside. Her wings graze the body of the unfortunate witness, drawing her attention. A single kill-shot. A small hole against the side of the nose creates a pool of dark red around his head. The light of her flashlight causes the blood to shine. She flicks it off and steps out.

The stench of the river is stronger as a crisp breeze cuts across the water and chills her skin. She checks her watch. Still two hours to sunrise. It needs to hurry. The crevices of her face feel dirty. Her wings seem like their wrenching down on her shoulders. The clawed tips of her fingers tingle.

The rotted wood creaks as Jacob, still naked from reverting back to his human form, joins her outside. They let the fevered argument spilling from inside bounce absently into the air.

"I messed up," Jacob says, his voice cracking at a near whisper. "I should have smelled him."

"No," Bella says. Her eyes narrow as water. "Emmett."

"Still."

_Me too._ Both Jacob and herself should have smelled the bystander. But even now, all Bella can smell is the river. All she can feel is the blood coursing within her.

"How bad is this?" Jacob asks.

Looking to the city, Bella thinks on the question. The towering buildings. The flashing lights. The constant drone of the oblivious. The terrified shake of the Devil as it spoke flashes into her mind. Its scratchy, high-pitched voice sinks from her mind and down her neck like a nightmare.

"Bella?" Jacob asks.

"Bad," she answers, as the city goes on.


	2. Chapter 2

Edward's hands tremble. The acidic heat of Bye-Lye, the paste-like substance recently developed by Lilim to quickly dispose of bodies, coats the inside of his nostrils. It voids his sinuses of the pressure the high-speed flights in their stealth jet, SHVA, typically cause. Even now, an hour after the two corpses have melted into water-soluble puddles of gunk, the inside of his skull burns. It doesn't matter. The images of the dead sear his mind.

The blood still roaring through his veins overpowers the steady hum of the engine. His periphery is tinged red in fury, his gaze down to the corrugated floor of the plane. No one speaks. The silence is thick with avoidance.

A slight beep from behind his neck signals the power drain on his exosuit. The ARMS, the Assistive Robotic Musculature System, has become a natural extension of himself on missions. He rolls his forearm, inspecting the carbon frame to distract from the bubbling rage. He spots the notch that hides the Kill Switch; Lilim's catch-all to stop rogue agents. Following his first mission, Colonel Cullen had inspected him, found he didn't take it, and made it a requirement. Like the rest of the ARMS, Edward didn't think about it. Looking at its compartment, his heart accelerates. Beneath the panel, a single press would eliminate Emmett from his concerns. His vow to never use it floods his mind like a whispering chorus. Guilt crushes against his chest.

As freeing as it would be, Emmett isn't rogue. He's right. That incessant fact digs at the base of Edward's skull like an icepick. The human bystander couldn't be ignored, seeing the team and the Devil. Their target seemed impossible to control. In an impossible situation, Emmett made the easiest decision. The rush of blood grows louder in Edward's ears. He doesn't have to like it.

What was the Devil speaking of, though? Who's collecting cryptids? Or was Emmett right again and the creature was just mad?

"ETA in three," Emmett says from the pilot seat. His bored voice pops through the radio like an idea.

Raising his gaze from the corrugated floor, Edward catches Jacob flashing a forced smile. Twisting his lips, he begrudgingly returns the gesture. It evaporates his remaining energy.

Shaking the dead and the threats from his mind, Edward looks past Bella's curved wings and out the small patch of window that allows him to see the sky. The stars are gone and the night is lavender. The sun prepares its ascent beneath the horizon. Distant clouds shrink and lower before disappearing in a flash of black trees.

The trees are replaced by the flight tunnel; alternating flickers of light reveal the curved seams of its walls shooting past. SHVA's nose dips, the only sign of their descent. Before long, the tunnel opens to the metal-lined chamber of the cavernous Pen. Edward's gut shifts with the plane's braking and rocking. It momentarily hovering before setting down with a gentle thump.

"Clear," Emmett says, reaching across the console and shutting off the engine.

Nausea presses against the bottom of Edward's throat. They're home, but that only means he has to explain what happened.

"Right," he says, "Recover your gear and head to the conference room for debrief." He hopes the shake in his voice isn't as obvious as it feels.

"Can we shower first?" Jacob asks over the loud clicks of their unbuckling harnesses.

"Sure. Be quick."

The metallic whirr of the lowering rear door reverberates in Edward's mind, blocking out the shuffling and motion of his team. The grotesque images of the dissolving corpses flickers back to him and he sighs. _Emmett did the right thing, _he thinks. It's not convincing.

Before the boarding ramp is completely lowered, he sees Alice approaching. The normal bounce in her stride is heavy. Her typical, broad smile is a cautious scowl. It's a look he's never seen on her, but what it means is obvious. He quickly departs SHVA and meets her where the team can't hear them.

"The Colonel—" she begins.

"Yeah. When?"

"Now." Alice's eyes glisten with disappointment and guilt. Her bob of hair hangs meekly around the edges of her face. She won't meet his eyes.

_Of course. _He bites the inside of his lip. "The whole team?"

"Just you and Bella."

Glancing over his shoulder, he sees Bella's ridged, transformed face watching him with sympathy. He doesn't want to drag her into this, but he has no choice. He turns back to Alice. "When's sunrise?"

"About ten minutes."

"Can we wait for her to transform back?"

"She can." Alice's answer is quick, expected. "Sorry," she adds under her breath.

"You didn't do anything," Edward says. His lungs, his heart, his chest, everything feels like sludge. "Give me a second."

"Yeah."

He returns to the plane, the team's gear set in individual piles around the unload ramp. Jacob and Bella step away from the inventory of their equipment. Emmett remains in the pilot chair conducting the post-flight checks.

"Can you hear me, Emmett?"

"Carlisle wants to see you and Bella," he answers back. His focus doesn't leave SHVA's console.

"Yeah," Edward says. His soldier's flippancy is infuriating, but somehow encouraging. Maybe this isn't that uncommon. "You and Jacob continue recovering our gear, but standby in case the Colonel wants to talk to you."

"Yessir," Jacob answers.

Edward can't help but smile at the young sergeant. "Bella, join us at sunup."

The sharp tips of her fangs protrude from the seam of her lips as they tighten and she nods.

"Edward?" Alice calls.

"Coming." He leaves his team and follows Alice across the Pen. Their footsteps echo gently in the empty silence between them. He holds the door open for her as they exit into the low, painted cinder halls that make up the underground compound.

Every moment of the mission replays in his mind. It becomes a bulletized synopsis, details fading into supplemental information only to support what happened. Unimportant. In the Army, before Lilim, he faced investigations when his soldiers inadvertently fired their weapons. But that was in a warzone, not a covert mission in New Jersey. And no one died. What Emmett did was brazenly worse than anything Edward had witnessed before.

_But Emmett was right. _The words repeat. He kept their existence secret. Even through repetition, Edward finds belief difficult.

They stop by the door to the conference room. Alice stands to the side, her arms behind her with hands gripping each other. "I'll send Bella in when she gets here."

"Thanks." Edward forces a half-smile, trying to reassure her. Or maybe himself.

She returns the expression with a nod.

He enters the conference room and remains standing. The two massive monitors on the wall display a satellite closeup of the New Jersey pier. The buildings are desaturated into grays and blues. Edward watches the bright globs of red and orange move between the rectangular shapes before five of them group into a single warehouse. A sixth shape approaches, joins them. Two quick twinkles of light and then two of the globs begin to fade.

It's then when Edward realizes he is holding his breath. The video doesn't surprise him. He's reviewed the satellite footage of previous missions with the Colonel before. But the vivid splashes of heat slowly fading into their dark surroundings, it saddens him. Before he was just angry.

"Sit down," Colonel Cullen says. He leans back in his chair at the head of the table. His arms stretch forward, palms flat against the table's surface. The pose looks like he's bracing himself, but there's no tension. The typically stern frown is relaxed and his eyes do not leave the screen as Edward takes his seat beside him.

His ARMS forces his back to remain straight against the chair's curve and he keeps his hands on the armrests.

The two hot globs have faded to a bright green before the Colonel taps the tablet resting between his hands and freezes the image.

"Sir, I—" Edward begins.

"Let's wait for Agent Eliz," his superior says, using Bella's code name like he always does.

The distant formality of the name has always bothered Edward, but here he heeds it like a warning. This discussion has no place for the familiarity he uses to keep his team cohesive.

There's a gentle knock on the door, immediately followed by its opening. A human Bella enters. Her brown hair gathers at the back of her neck in a hurried bun, errant strands splaying around the sides. Edward can't help but notice the rings beneath her eyes, and wonders if he looks just as haggard. It's been a long night.

"Colonel," Bella says.

"Sit." Colonel Cullen tips a hand up from the table, motioning the chair opposite Edward.

Crossing behind the Colonel, Bella shoots Edward a quick grin before she sits.

It's an uneasy silence; Edward and Bella mutely face each other, avoiding eye-to-eye contact. Colonel Cullen's focus doesn't leave the screen. His lips shift with thought. The longer it goes, the louder Edward's heart sounds in his ears.

"First," the Colonel says, "Who fired?" The words are steady, deliberate and quiet.

"Agent Vejo," Bella says before Edward has a chance to inhale.

"Who died?"

"The target," she answers again.

Edward catches Colonel Cullen's dismissive head tilt. True, many of the team's missions were to eliminate threatening cryptids, but the Devil wasn't a threat. It was scared.

"And?"

Edward sees Bella swallow and jumps in. "A human, sir."

That pulls the Colonel's gaze from the screen and straight on Edward. The light glancing of his clean-shaven skull creates an intimidating mask around his emotionless brow. "I asked, 'Who.'"

"There was no ID, sir." Edward remains stoic. "He looked like a homeless person."

"But he was human."

"Yes, sir."

"Agent Eliz?" Colonel Cullen's eyes don't leave Edward.

"Captain Masen is correct, sir," Bella says.

The Colonel's eyes narrow and his jaw tightens. "Kill Switch, Captain."

The order makes the air in Edward's lungs disappear. He doesn't want Bella here for this, but he can't refuse. He forces his hands to unclench the armrests and brings them above the table. He runs a finger across the forearm of his exosuit, finding the notch that reveals the Kill Switch. Opening it, are four buttons, one for each of his team, Emmett, Jacob, Bella and Alice, remain unpressed.

This was Lilim Division's doctrinal enforcement of what they were terrified they couldn't control. Implanted in each cryptid working for the organization was a small-yield explosive that could be detonated by their human team leader. Colonel Cullen referred to it as their "leash," but Edward had promised himself, and Bella, he would never use it.

Edward can sense Bella's discomfort at the inspection, and tries to focus only on the Colonel as he displays the Switch.

"You had an agent kill a non-combatant human," Colonel Cullen says. "That's why you have these."

"Em—" Edward catches himself, "Agent Vejo wasn't disobeying orders. He was ensuring the secrecy of the mission." Even saying the words, Edward isn't sure if he believes them.

The Colonel says nothing. He turns his attention back to the screen and, without looking, swipes a finger across the tablet in front of him. The video rewinds back to the team's arrival on the dock. The three of them watch the video without a word. The airborne Bella, Jacob's chase, the confrontation in the warehouse. The unfortunate human's arrival and death.

As they watch, Edward's heartbeat accelerates. The formless shapes of color allow him to revisit every moment of the mission. The terrified clamoring of the Devil echoes back into his mind. The shocked scream of Emmett's homeless victim. Could he have stopped it? Was Emmett going rogue? His fingers go numb and the video blurs. Was he losing control of his team? Did he ever really have it?

"I'm going to have a full investigation conducted," Colonel Cullen finally says. He freezes the video. "Until that's completed, Gamma Team is suspended from any field missions."

Edward's gut turns at the verdict.

He looks to Bella. Her jaw juts forward. Eyes narrow. Gaze shifts away. The apparent fury in her face makes him feel even worse.

"Go," the Colonel adds.

Without a word, Edward and Bella leave. Edward only watches Bella storm off ahead of him back to the Pen.


	3. Chapter 3

The sides of Bella's eyes itch with rage. Fucking Emmett. The knowledge to be calm, her desire to talk to Edward about all this, is lost in the flood of anger frothing in her chest. Her molars grind. Her jaw clenches. She doesn't care.

The double doors of the Pen slam open, the echo ringing over her heavy steps. There's no one near SHVA, just their gear. She finds herself running towards it. Her seething breath loud in her own ears.

Reaching her pack, she pulls her knife from its sheath. The blade is long, at least six inches, and flashes brilliantly in the dim lights of the Pen.

"Bella!" Edward calls, trailing her.

She ignores him. His voice is faded and lost to the sounds of herself. Heading to the side door that leads to the locker room, all she wants is release.

Throwing the door open, the loud hiss of running showers and the thick humidity hit her. She absently gazes over the stunned Alice sitting on the bench in front of Jacob's locker and turns to the noise. Emmett and Jacob stand on opposite ends of the communal show, naked with their backs to her.

Gripping the worn, leather handle of her knife she approaches Emmett. Her shoulders and biceps and forearms throb with anticipation. She focuses on the glint of water running down the ridges of his spine. Screaming, she thrusts her blade forward just between two lower vertebras. Emmett's hot blood mixes with the warmth of the shower that covers her hand. The force of her attacks sends him slamming into the wall, grunting and crashing to the wet floor.

Wisps of diluted blood spread in streams across the tile floor. The team stares at Bella in shock.

Water from the shower soaks through her pant legs, warming her skin. Her breaths are heavy. Unblinking, she watches Emmett grimace and curl on the wet floor until his eyes meet hers.

"Fuck, Bella," he moans.

"We're fucking suspended, you asshole." She doesn't scream. She doesn't need to. The intensity in her voice surprises even herself.

"Yeah," Emmett says. "You knew that was coming."

A scowl crosses her face. He's right, but it doesn't dampen her temper.

With a deft, sudden motion she flicks her wrist. The knife flies down with a flash and plunges into the meat of Emmett's thigh.

His brief yelp of pain morphs into a chuckle that bounces over the steady hiss of falling water.

An urge to pummel him, to unleash a flurry of stomps on his naked body floods from the base of her skull into her feet. Her soles tingle. She did know they would be suspended. She knew before they left New Jersey. It wasn't the first time this had happened. Far from it. But this time was different. This time left her enraged. She wasn't sure why, but she knew Emmett was to blame.

"Bella," Edward says from behind her, "Get out of here."

The toes of her boot squeak on the tile with her turn. She avoids Edward's and Alice's eyes, passing them with her focus directly ahead. From the periphery, she notices Alice's blanched, wide-eyed face and it causes a twinge of self-consciousness to nip at her heart. She shoves the door that leads to the Pen open with a flat palm, and hears Emmett ask for a towel.

Her heavy steps slow the further into the Pen she walks. Her muscles being to tremble. Midway between the locker room and SHVA she stops. A sigh rushes from her lips and echoes off the cavernous space like a chorus. Clenching her eyes close, she tilts her chin up and tries to force her frustration to empty.

She's alone for a while before she hears the door open behind her.

"Not now," Bella says.

"I figured." It's Jacob.

His voice makes Bella turn in surprise. She expected Edward to come after her. Maybe Alice. But there the young sergeant stands. His skin is still damp from a rushed attempt at drying off and he wears basketball shorts and a tank top, both with severe wrinkles from their time in his locker.

"I brought you back your knife," he adds, holding it up as he approaches her.

"Thanks." She takes it back, its leather handle still wet. Jacob follows her to her gear, still stacked neatly behind the plane. "How Emmett?"

"He's healed already."

Bella assumed as much. She kneels beside her pack and returns the blade back to its sheath. Large drying splotches of Emmett's blood cover her hand. Seeing it makes her eyes narrow and she rubs her palm against her thigh in a futile effort to remove it. Finally, she shakes her hand out and stands.

"Sorry I reacted that way." She doesn't look at him, but instead scans the emptiness of the Pen.

"I thought it was kinda funny," Jacob says, his shrug apparent in his voice. "I'm guessing he deserved it."

"Maybe." Probably not. A gentle heat grows beneath her skin as embarrassment creeps over her.

"So, we're suspended," Jacob says. He walks around her, stretching up to grip SHVA's wing as it curls around them. He arcs his back, allowing deep shadows to define the muscles covering him. "What's that mean?"

Forcing a smile through a labored breath, she looks at him. "It means we can't leave the facility."

"None of us?"

"Edward can." The words strike through her like a bayonet and the churn of anger returns.

"Because he's human?"

The revitalized rage boils with realization. Why she's so angry about this suspension over all the others. Why a loathing of Emmett is crushing against her chest. For over sixty years, Lilim viewed her as nothing more than a mandarugo. Her human past, her life before the Philippines, merely words in a dossier. Edward didn't do that. He treated her, the entire team, like equals. Like people. And in one, impulsive act, Emmett had taken it all away.

"Yeah," she finally says with a tight jaw.

"You can't even do your night flights, can you?"

She shakes her head. Bella's privileged opportunity to leave the facility at night was a routine luxury forgotten in the rumble and roar of fury wracking against her mind. The reminder hurts, but doesn't compare to being relegated once again to one of Lilim's cryptids.

Jacob says nothing.

"Fucking Emmett," Bella says, under her breath. His blood, dry on her skin, now itches. She curses to herself while wiping her hand on her pants.

"How long are we suspended for?"

"I don't know," Bella says through a sigh. "As long as the investigation takes."

The echo of an opening door fills the Pen. They turn to see Edward striding toward them. His eyes are thin, intense lines in the dim light. Shadows frame his tight face. The sight of him makes her frustration burn hotter.

"Sir," Jacob says, invitingly as his team leader nears.

"Finish cleaning up, Jacob." Edward's voice is measured and deliberate. "Bella and I need to talk."

She crosses her arms, waiting for Jacob to leave the Pen. She wants to talk to Edward, hoping he can help calm her down. The anger inside prevents her from softening though, and she finds herself able to to nothing but scowl.

The locker room door slams. They're alone.

"You stabbed him," Edward finally says. "I watched you come in here, grab your knife, and go stab him." There's a tone of incredulity to his voice.

"Yes."

"You intentionally hurt a teammate."

"No." She shakes her head. "Yes." The sense of uncontrollable fury returns. She wanted to hurt Emmett. Stabbing him was nothing but an impulse. "It wasn't intentional."

"It sure looked that way."

"I was pissed, Edward. I am pissed."

"Captain," Edward corrects her. He spits the word out.

Bella's teeth click with the surprised snapping of her jaw. He's never pulled rank on her. She fights the urge to shove the word back down Edward throat. Pursing her lips and gazing to the ceiling, she takes a breath. "Yes, sir. But with all due respect," her insult is clear, "We can't actually hurt Emmett."

Meeting his eyes, she can see him try to brush her logic away.

"But stabbing each other hurts the team, Bella."

"Lieutenant." She glowers.

He bites his lip. "We can't just start stabbing each other."

She scoffs without thinking. They daily train with live rounds and real danger. It made pain routine. She had thousands of serious injuries over her decades with the organization. Edward's first day training with the team Emmett had collapsed his lung.

"We train against each other with live rounds and blades every day." She shakes her head. "You shot Jacob through the neck two weeks ago."

Edward flushes.

She doesn't feel sorry about it.

"That was training," he argues. "This wasn't."

It's a tepid reason she doesn't want to entertain. "You're right," she says through a sigh. "This wasn't training. But I was pissed."

"That's no excuse."

"Have you just not figured this out yet, or are you trying to sound like a fucking idiot?" The words spill out of her before she can weigh them, and saying them causes her frustration to grow within. Professionalism be damned. Edward is pissing her off too.

Clenching his jaw, he forces a breath. "You need to calm down."

"No shit."

Even in the dim light of the Pen, she can see his every muscle tense with restraint. He turns, and it sends a pang of loneliness she didn't expect through her core. Fatigue starts to manifest.

"Why don't you ask why I'm so angry?" The venom is still present in her tone, it's just weaker somehow. "Don't you think that's important?"

He stops but says nothing. The pause is longer than she expected and it sends a tingle through her palms.

He finally turns. "Do you want to tell me?"

_Idiot. _"I want to tell Edward. Not Captain Masen."

"Then just say it, Bella."

"God damn," she sighs, loudly. For nearly a year, Edward had proved a friend. He was the first team leader she knew who treated the cryptids in Lilim like humans; like people. He never seemed threatened by them. But now, she felt like a child. "Can't you just cut the authority bullshit and talk to me?"

"I've got more pressing matters right now." His volume increases. He begins heading to the locker room.

"Like what?" Her heart feels numb from its own rapid pounding. She allows a smirk to inch across her face with the realization that she knows what the suspension means and he doesn't. "We've got nothing to do. We're suspended."

A cruel snarl on his face, a mix of embarrassment and anger, Edward jerks around. The words scratch his throat as she shouts them. "Exactly, Bella. I've got one soldier that shot a civilian. I've got another that's stabbing her teammates. And we're fucking suspended."

Indignation rumbles in her gut. For an instant, she wonders if it's justified but it still boils out of her. "Fuck you, Edward. The team is suspended. Not you."

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

She knows the intimation that he wasn't part of the team is a cruel jab, but the guilt of saying so is drowned by the sudden flood of anger and frustration and hurt at decades of forgotten humanity. Exhausted, she no longer holds back.

"You still get to leave. Go home. Go to the bar. See the sun. See the stars. Escape this fucking hole." She motions to the cavern around them. "The team doesn't. We're suspended. I don't get to leave. And I fucking hate you for it. And I fucking hate Emmett for causing it."

"You can't stab him for it." Edward's rebuttal is weak.

"Yes, I can." Her face burns. "I can fucking stab him because he's an addonexus."

"He's a teammate."

She ignores him. "And Jacob is an animorph."

"Bella."

"And I'm a mandarugo." She feels a tear run down her cheek. It's like gas to the fire within her. "And you're the fucking human put in charge of us."

Edward's footsteps reverberate loudly through the Pen and, before Bella can react, his arms are wrapped around her. His hands press tight against her shoulders. He smells of sweat and salt-water. Despite their friendship, they've rarely touched. Professionalism and respect encouraged some distance.

Bella's heart skips. She sighs, breathing him in. A desire to press fully into the embrace, to wrap her arms around him as well, nips at the nap of her neck. It's been decades since she's felt this; being held so tightly. Before she left for the war. When she was still human. Flashes of the life before run through her mind. She clenches her fist. Keeps them at her sides.

He releases her and steps back. His eyes are wide with self-conscious uncertainty.

Her anger dissipates, leaving only weariness. "Go home, Edward."

"I was just trying-"

"I know." She's too tired to bother with him; too tired to feel guilt. With heavy steps, she turns to SHVA and gets her gear. The ache in her muscles makes her body like clay. She heads back his direction, keeping her eyes past her team leader and on the locker room door.

He takes a breath, but she cuts him off.

"Go home, Edward." She passes him before adding, "I'll see you tomorrow." There is no glance back. The locker room door slams behind her, leaving her alone.


End file.
